


Public Nudity

by thebestthingthathappenedsinceslicedbread



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Calum is a dick in this one, Eventual Smut, Footie Player!Calum, Hunk!Calum, Introvert!Ashton, It's a sorta juvie, Juvenile 5sos, Luke is a really weird kid, M/M, basically Mikey gets sued for being nude in public, does that tag even exist, liz is real cool in this one, muke smut, not really but sorta, punk!michael, rebel!Michael, side larry - Freeform, then again what's new, this is my first fic go easy on me, woo first work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6771544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebestthingthathappenedsinceslicedbread/pseuds/thebestthingthathappenedsinceslicedbread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael gets sued for Public Nudity.</p><p>He didn't know that came with a blue eyed flowerchild, a stuck up blonde, and a footie player with his head in his arse.</p><p>But he wouldn't have had it any other way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Public Nudity

 

“So.” The sheriff pursed his lips (in fact he did it so much that his bushy white moustache covered it all) and furrowed his brows. He looked at the papers in front of him while taking glances at Michael every now and then, and he didn't think that the sheriff’s brows could furrow even more but it did. He wondered if that was even humanly possible, and then he proceeded to wonder if the sheriff was even human. After a few seconds he concluded that, no, the sheriff could not be human because no one can ever furrow their brows so much that it meets. It looked like the man had a unibrow! That isn't possible, at least not in human standards. 

Then after that, he briefly wonders what’s this guy’s home planet was. Before his mind could wander to more theories that sound more like than predictable sci-fi plots than reality, he was interrupted by a cough. He focused on the sheriff again, raising a pierced eyebrow in questioning. 

He looked annoyed as fuck, and Michael didn't need telepathic communication to know that the sheriff’s mentally cursing "Fuck you, you little annoying bastard that caused me to wake up at 3:07 in the goddamned morning." 

Alright, alright, Michael may have over exaggerated the curses (or maybe not, he means, that glare that the sheriff gives him though, like damn he might burn in the very spot) but whatever. 

It wasn't Michael’s fault, anyway. 

“So, this report says that you, Michael Gordon Clifford, was caught and complained because of Public Nudity.” The sheriff emphasised. 

“Yes, that's what it says, I believe.” 

He didn't know how he did it, but the sheriff looked even more annoyed than he was already. 

So not human. 

“But what’s your say on this? Is it true?” The sheriff asked him. His pen was hanging in between his chubby fingers, waiting to write what Michael had to say.

"Well," Michael started, "I would really like that old lady that complained to know I was actually pissing on the sidewalk you know? I'm not that desperate that I'd flash everyone my dick, okay?"

The sheriff (man, Michael really needs to know his name) released a loud sigh before saying, "We don't tolerate that kind of language, Mr. Clifford." He pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved out a heavy exhale. Before Michael could respond, the sheriff added, "Mr. Clifford, just please sit on those benches on the next room, near the entrance and I’ll call your name after a few minutes when I'm done evaluating this." He signaled to get out of the room and surprisingly Michael obeyed. It was only because he was tired of standing, though.

He didn't need to be a rebel 24/7. 

He plops himself on the chair and released a loud groan, then letting his ice-blue eyes wander over the room. Let's see, what do we have here. 

White walls, White chairs, white everything. 

Boring. 

There was also a water dispenser near the doorway. How exciting then. White everything and a water dispenser. So entertaining. 

With his back to the chair, he slumped lazily and it was then he noticed a boy wearing a frat beanie, blonde hair poking out. He was slouched on one of the chairs, an old phone pressed to his ear. 

Like, not just an old phone like iPhone 4S or something (Michael doesn't really keep up with that shit, he couldn't afford it anyway, why bother) It was a really old phone. Michael guesses it was a Nokia phone. He had to hold in a snicker when he squinted his eyes and saw the word ‘NOKIA’ in all caps in silver lettering on the backside of the phone. The boy was talking to somebody on his phone, looking real sad like somebody slapped him on the face or something. He (sneakily, in his opinion) scooted closer to the blondie and tried to tune in to the conversation. 

Unfortunately because of his lack of superhuman hearing, he couldn't understand a word the person was saying. 

What he did hear though was the blonde muttering a couple of ‘mhmm’s, ‘uhuh’s and ‘yeah’s every now and then in response, but the thing that took the Golden Prize was definitely the “Yes, Mum. I’m sorry. I know, I know, I’m grounded. I know, I’m really sorry, ‘S not my fault though, I was just being careful. Alright bye Mum, love you.” The blonde hung up and brought down his phone from his ear, slightly smiling. 

“Hey Momma’s boy!” Michael shouted directly at his ear. He was leaning from his seat, which was about three seats from the other boy’s. The blonde look startled, both hands flying to his chest and causing his phone to fall out. He looked at Michael and then did Michael see how blue the boy’s eyes were. In fact, they were so blue he could practically feel the sins of his past lives being cleansed and erased. 

But then the boy heard his phone impact on the white (who could've guessed) cement floor, and immedeatly took his eyes away from Michael, who felt his sins coming back to him in full force. He quickly scrambled and inspected the phone, releasing a relieved sigh when he saw that it indeed was still working. 

Michael slided his butt to the chair next to the boy, because leaning a few chairs over wasn't really the most comfortable position in the world. “What’s your name?” He asked him. His elbows were on his knees and his head was on his palms, but he was looking straight to the blue-eyed boy, who was looking quite nervous. 

“Uh, my name’s Roberto.” The boy replied after being quiet for a while. 

“The name’s Michael. What’re you in here for?” He extended a hand for Roberto to shake, and the boy took it warily, as if Michael was contaminated with deadly virus or something. He supposed maybe he does have a deadly virus. Or not. 

Hopefully not.

“Uh, well, I was..” He started saying clearly, but mumbled it in the end so much Michael didn't understand a word he said even though they sat next to each other. 

“What was that?” Michael prodded, his face nearing this Robert bloke. 

“I, uh, . .” He mumbled it again. 

Michael rolled his eyes and slumped back to the chair. He crossed his arms over his chest after tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie. “Yup. I can totally hear you, mate.”

Thankfully, the bloke was smart enough to know Michael was being sarcastic and spoke in a weak and quiet voice (but enough for him to hear) “I drove too slow.” in which Michael deemed the most appropriate response was to burst out laughing. Well, in hindsight it probably wasn't, but Michael doesn't really give a fuck about being appropriate, so, whatever. 

Roberto blushed 50 shades of red (ehe) and it was funny how he tried to cover up his crimson cheeks by forcing his beanie to stretch and cover his face. It was only half of his face covered though, so Michael took the opportunity and poked his hot cheeks repeatedly. It was strangely entertaining, and he just kept at it. 

That is–until he was called over by another officer. With a groan, Michael got up and walked over to the sheriff’s office again, his sneakers feeling a little heavier and reluctant than it did 30 minutes before. 

When he set foot in the office, the sheriff started talking, obviously wanting to get it over with already. Michael was amused at the thought that he just wanted to go back to loving his strawberry-frosted, sugar-glazed, rainbow-colour-sprinkled donuts. 

How cliché, if it was indeed true. 

“Well, Mr. Clifford, you should be coming here every day this week, because we have to settle this in a logical time rather than in the morning.” Michael thought he could feel the glare from the sheriff’s eyes. “I’ll explain to you more tomorrow, if you decide that you want to clarify something.” He quickly dismissed Michael so he promptly followed.

Before he even thought clearly of what he was doing, Michael walked over, swiped the phone from Roberto's hands and typed his number. 

“Bye.” Michael bidded and gave a wave, his shoes making a squeaky sound on the smooth cement as he ran. 

And when the bloke finally gets home after his mother picked him up, when he opens his Nokia and looks at the contacts, he would see a newly added number with the name ‘Michael “the sexiest man alive” Clifford’. He would smile and let out a squeal. 

A manly squeal, that is. 

Yup. Totally manly. 

Totally. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So 
> 
> Roberto. 
> 
> You probably know who that is ;) 
> 
> Hope you like it so far, probably gonna update soon 
> 
> Love and gross mushy stuff,  
> Fizzie Xx


End file.
